


Kisses Like Cream

by Cheshire_Cat



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, D/s, F/M, Femdom, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Cat/pseuds/Cheshire_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perrie visits Zayn on tour.</p><p> <i>“Beg for it,” she says. Zayn goes hot with shame but does as he’s told.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses Like Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Like a month ago there was a random rumor that Zayn got one of his nipples pierced, so this is based on that. It's set however many months into the future it would take for the piercing to heal.
> 
> Also cross-posted on my [Livejournal](http://likean808drum.livejournal.com/1635.html).

Perrie flies out to see him when she has a weekend off, and the first thing she says when he picks her up from the airport is,

"I wanna see it."

"'Hi, Zayn, I missed you!' Aw, baby, I missed you too!"

Perrie kisses him lightly, giggling. "I missed you, Zaynie. I love you."

He takes her face and kisses her. "I love you, too."

"Now show me," she says, pawing at his chest to try and feel it through the fabric. Zayn grabs her hand away, looking around.

"Pezza, we're not alone!"

Zayn and Perrie's bodyguards are standing a polite distance away, chatting to each other and pretending not to watch them kiss. There’s a couple paparazzi standing a less polite distance away, not even trying to pretend.

"Fine," Perrie sighs, taking his hand. "Later, then. Lunch?"

Zayn takes her suitcase in his other hand and they walk together to the car, their bodyguards following close behind. In the car Perrie leans into him, twining their hands together in her lap and tracing her fingertips lightly over the lines of his tattoos as they swap tour stories.

Lunch is pleasant and, aside from a few fans coming shyly up to their table to ask for a picture, fairly uneventful, at least until Zayn excuses himself to go to the bathroom. His phone buzzes in his pocket before he's even across the room.

He pulls it out to find a message from Perrie:

_Send me a picture :)_

Zayn's already sent her roughly ten pictures per week in the time since he's gotten it, plus another three he didn’t send for each one he did. He very briefly contemplates sending her an old one she hasn't seen before, but he knows that's not what she means. He steps into a stall and locks the door behind him. Holding his phone out, he lifts his shirt up past his chest and snaps a picture, wincing as the shutter sound goes off. Luckily, the guy a stall over flushes just after, so hopefully nobody noticed.

The picture's blurry under the shitty washroom lights, but you can still clearly see the little silver bar through Zayn's right nipple. The corner of his face is just in the frame, and a bit of the stall door so she knows it's from now. He sends her the picture with a little winky face emoticon and goes to use the urinal.

As he's washing his hands, his phone buzzes again.

_Good boy_

Zayn feels his face go warm at the praise, and, oh great, his cock seems to appreciate it too. Which means he’s stuck trying to hide a semi as he winds his way back to the table. Perrie, or course, catches it immediately and smirks in satisfaction.

It's all either of them can do to keep their hands off each other, but they manage to make it through the rest of lunch and back to their hotel room without drawing too many scandalized glances. As soon as the door shuts behind them they grab each other, kissing feverishly. Perrie pushes Zayn into the wall, pinning his hands up against the wood. Zayn groans and grinds into her, and she smiles into his lips and grabs his hips instead, grinding them together, her nails digging into the flesh above his waistband. He tangles his fingers in her hair to tether her to him and lets the taste and smell of her anchor him.

“Now show me,” she says, and Zayn can’t help but laugh at how annoyed she sounds that she’s had to wait this long. He takes his time, then, pushing past her and walking nearer to the bed. He takes off his belt and his shoes first, laying them carefully on the floor, then his socks, then his jacket, which he drapes over the back of a chair. He’s just as desperate as she is, but he wants to see how long he can stretch the moment out and make her wait. And he gets his answer when Perrie shoves him down onto the bed and grabs his T-shirt herself, yanking it unceremoniously over his head.

“Think you’re clever, do you?” she asks, kissing him again.

“Yeah, I reckon so.”

She’s finally seeing his piercing in person, months after she’d instructed him to have it done. It was the biggest task she’d ever given him; before this, it was mostly just demands for (sometimes very specific) pictures, and a few times she’d forbidden him from getting himself off as punishment for something he’d done, or occasionally just because she felt like it—Zayn minded it a lot less when she just felt like it, because then he was doing something to please her, instead of being punished and feeling guilty for disappointing her. And then there were the times when she told him to buy things, handcuffs and floggers and a butt plug. But after he’d been talking for a little bit about the idea of getting his nipples pierced, she’d commanded him to do it, at least one. Zayn always knows he can safeword out of any of her demands, but he's never wanted to. He likes doing what she asks, likes submitting to her will and knowing he's making her happy.

Perrie glances at him.

"It's all healed up and ready?"

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s fine.”

She flicks it experimentally and Zayn groans, everything made more sensitive with the piercing. Perrie grins and pinches it between her fingers, twisting it until Zayn yelps. She giggles.

“You like that?”

“Y-yeah,” he pants, arching into her touch when she pinches harder. She bends over him and licks the now reddened flesh and then, looking up and catching his eye, she bites down on it, gently at first, then harder as he squirms underneath her.

“Perrie, fuck…”

She keeps going, alternating between biting and soothing, her other hand coming up to rub at his other nipple, and slowly Zayn comes apart, whining and whimpering and choking out her name.

She comes back up and kisses him.

“Get your kit off, babe,” she commands. She straightens up and pulls her shirt over her head, and Zayn complies as quickly as he can, fumbling at his buttons and pulling everything off while Perrie strips down to her bra and panties. She crawls on top of him again and laces her fingers with his. She kisses him hard, straddling his waist.

“How long until you have to leave for soundcheck?”

Zayn groans and lifts his head to see the bedside clock. “About two hours.”

“Perfect.”

She’s grinding down on his cock as she kisses him, and he can feel her slickness through the fabric. His cock stiffens, which makes her giggle, moving her hips to watch his reaction. He doesn’t disappoint, giving little gasps and moans with every movement.

“You’re so hard for me, baby, aren’t you?” she whispers, and Zayn sighs into her lips.

“Yes, Perrie, yes, just for you. Always for you.”

“Move up by the headboard,” she says, smiling fondly. “I’m gonna sit on your face.”

Zayn complies while she rolls away and slips out of her panties, and she kneels with one leg on either side of his head. She looks down at him fondly, smiling like he’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. He smiles back at her. He can smell her cunt from here and licks his lips with longing.

“Beg for it,” she says. Zayn goes hot with shame but does as he’s told.

“Please, Perrie, please ride my face, please come in my mouth, please please please!”

He can see how much it turns her on, and that fact turns _him_ on, too. She knows he’s ashamed at having to beg her, and that’s why she makes him do it. She knows he likes the shame. It helps him start sliding into that fuzzy place where everything is warm and wonderful and nothing matters except Perrie and pleasing her.

“Good boy,” she says. His reaction’s the same as in the restaurant: he flushes and his cock stiffens, and she gives in, lowering herself onto his open mouth. Zayn’s aware of nothing but the taste of her, heavy on his tongue, as she grinds back and forth. She rides him roughly, using the headboard for support, and only pauses every now and then to pull back and let him gasp in a breath or two. He can feel her trembling when she comes, reaching one hand down to grip his hair and keep him in place until she can push herself through to a second orgasm.

By the time she’s done, Zayn’s completely in subspace. She sits back, panting, and Zayn gasps for breath. He looks up at Perrie, wide-eyed, and licks his lips. With a smile she scoots back so she can kiss him, tasting herself on his mouth. He moans into her mouth and trails his fingertips up and down her sides. He slips just his fingertips into her bra, and when she groans and nods her permission, he slides his hands in, stroking her nipples with his thumbs. She leaves his mouth and starts sucking at the skin just beneath his jaw.

“I have to—have to go onstage tonight,” he says softly, his words heavy and thick through the cloud around his brain. He wishes it wasn’t the case and she could continue as much as she wanted, marking every inch of him as her own. Perrie sighs and nods. She switches tactics and instead trails tiny gentle kisses along his jaw and up to the shell of his ear, which she takes ever so softly between her teeth and bites until Zayn gasps. His cock is practically throbbing, completely ignored, but he doesn’t care. He’s not allowed, not allowed, not allowed, until Perrie decides to let him. And she’s definitely not making it any easier, rubbing her cunt up and down along his shaft as she trails her mouth further down his chest. She’s still dripping wet, and Zayn wants _so desperately_ to slide up into her.

“No, Zayn,” Perrie says, somehow sensing what he wants. He groans pitifully.

“Please? Perrie, please?”

“Not yet, darling,” she says airily, sitting back on her heels. “Go stand by the couch.”

Zayn perks up and hurries to obey—at least, as much as he can hurry, with his limbs as leaden as his mind. Perrie smacks his arse and gets up to go to her suitcase. By the time he’s pulled himself off the bed and gone to the couch, Perrie’s returned, holding some lube, his butt plug, and the length of red silk that’s Zayn’s favorite to be tied with. She motions towards the couch.

“Lean over the back, babe,” she says, and he obeys, crossing his wrists behind his back. Perrie wraps the silk expertly around and around them, binding his hands firmly in place. Zayn loves the cool smoothness of the fabric, and the way that it makes him even more helpless to Perrie’s will.

“Spread your legs some more,” Perrie says. Zayn obeys. He can hear her opening the lube and squirting some out onto her fingers, and then she’s there, and Zayn gasps at the coldness of the lube. His cock is positively dripping, and he shifts back so he’s not tempted to start rutting off onto the back of the sofa.

“Good boy,” Perrie says, realizing what he’s doing. She slowly slides one finger inside him, twisting it around to loosen him up. Zayn moans.

“Mm, yeah, Perrie, so good…”

She giggles.

“You’re so good for me, Zayn, aren’t you?”

She leans down over him, presses kisses into his back as she slips a second finger in. She fucks them in and out of him slowly, scissors them back and forth. Zayn’s panting, and she brings her other hand around to his mouth, but instead of silencing him, she pushes two fingers between his lips. He moans around them and sucks on them as she works a third finger into his arse.

“That’s enough, don’t you think?” she asks, kissing the back of his neck and pulling both her hands away.

“Mmm, yes, Perrie, please…”

He doesn’t realize he’s squeezed his eyes closed until he opens them. His cheek is pressed into the couch, the cushion soft against his skin, and he sees Perrie’s hand pluck the butt plug from beside his face. He can’t see much else, but he hears her open the lube again and squirt a generous amount onto the plug. Then it’s there, pushing in slowly, much bigger and less forgiving than Perrie’s fingers. Zayn whines at the back of his throat and relaxes into it, letting her slip the plug all the way in until the base is snug against his cheeks.

“Good boy,” Perrie says, stroking over the curve of his arse, her fingers slick with lube. She brings her hand in front of him and wraps her fingers around his cock. Zayn lets out half a sob, thrusting into her grip and moaning desperately.

"Please, please Perrie, please can I come, please, please?"

"Not yet, darling," she says, even as she strokes his aching cock, albeit much slower than he'd like. Between that and the plug situated _perfectly_ against his prostate, Zayn completely stops thinking, unable to comprehend anything but those two sensations. Perrie pauses for a moment, then says,

"Stand up."

But instead of waiting for him to comply, she grabs his hair and pulls him up, just sharply enough to make him wince. She holds him by the hair and leads him around the couch, where she sits down, pushing him onto his knees in front of her. She doesn't have to say anything, Zayn immediately understands and practically buries his face in her cunt. Usually he'd get his hands into the mix, finger her a little or reach up and stroke her tits, but since they’re still bound behind him all he's got is his tongue. He makes sure to make good use of it, alternating between licking up between her lips and fucking her as far in as his tongue will go, punctuated with sucking ever so gently on her clit, already sensitive from earlier. Perrie moans breathily, keeping her grip in his hair, and pants encouragement as he goes.

"Yeah, Zayn, yeah, just like that, oh god, yes yes yes, god, _Zayn!_ "

Zayn laps her up like milk, can feel her getting closer and closer until she comes, holding him close to her as she shivers through her peak, gasping out what a good boy he is. It’s the longest, hardest she’s come so far, and afterward she just lays back on the couch, panting heavily. Zayn sits back on his heels, which pushes the plug in just a little bit further. He moans, rocking his hips to fuck himself onto it. Perrie chuckles.

“You enjoying yourself, hmm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zayn says, looking up at her through hooded eyes. He leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, where her muscles are still shaking a little bit. Perrie takes his face in both hands and lifts him up from the floor, leaning down halfway to meet him in a kiss. She licks into his mouth to taste herself on his tongue. He moans, shuddering all the way down his body at the feeling of her fingers in his hair.

“C’mon, baby,” she murmurs, pulling back. She unties his hands and pulls him to his feet, then leads him to the bed, where she lies down, luxuriating in the thick white duvet. Zayn crawls over her and kisses her some more, sucking on her bottom lip. He trails kisses down her jaw, her throat, across her collarbones. He sucks at the little bit of her breast that pillows above the top of her bra, and she guides his hands beneath her back, letting him pull her bra off. He tosses it to the floor and cups her tits in his hands, smoothing his thumbs back and forth over her nipples. Perrie arches into him.

“Mmm, Zayn, that’s good, good boy…”

He takes one of her nipples into his mouth and sucks on it, rubbing circles on the other one with his thumb. Perrie scratches at the back of his neck, her fingernails dull against his skin.

“Zayn,” she gasps, and then her voice steadies. “Fuck me,” she commands him, and Zayn obeys. She wraps her legs around him and he finally, _finally_ slides into her, groaning from his core at the way she envelops him, hot and wet around his cock. He thrusts in and out, slowly at first, pressing every inch of his body to every inch of hers until she is his entire world. He tries to go slow, tries to make it last, because he’s so painfully close he feels like he’s about to burst. Perrie groans underneath him, murmuring about how good he feels, and he reciprocates, moaning into her lips.

“God, Perrie, you feel amazing, god you’re fantastic, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Perrie wraps her hand around his neck, holding him as close as she can. She reaches down to where the butt plug is still nestled inside him and starts tapping it in rhythm with his thrusts. Zayn loses it.

“Please Perrie can I come please please please can I come please Perrie please—”

“Yes, baby, okay.”

And he does, long and hard, stars blooming behind his eyes. His thrusts turn erratic but he keeps going as long as he can, and Perrie holds the plug firmly inside his arse. When he’s finished, she instructs him to stay buried inside her as she brings a hand down to her clit and rubs herself over the edge one more time, the orgasm coming quickly and shivering through both their bodies. Zayn kisses her, not stopping until well after they’re both done, and she lets him collapse beside her. He curls up against her side and buries his face in her hair until their breathing has slowed. Perrie strokes his head and murmurs to him, telling him how good he is and how much she loves him, giving him time to slowly pull himself back out of subspace and into the world. At some point, she thinks to glance at the clock.

“Shit.”

“Mmm?”

“You were supposed to be at soundcheck fifteen minutes ago.”

Right on cue, Zayn’s phone starts buzzing from inside his jeans pocket, somewhere on the floor. Paul calling to see where the fuck he is. His heart leaps to his throat for a second, and then he collapses into hysterical giggles.

Perrie smiles fondly at him and kisses his forehead. “You better shower off quick, then. Don’t want them to get any ideas about what’s made you late.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Zayn laughs. He kisses her one more time before hauling himself off the bed. His phone stops buzzing, and he digs it out of his jeans and taps out a quick, apologetic message to Paul before walking towards the bathroom.

“You coming?” he calls back over his shoulder.

“‘Course,” Perrie says, sitting up and stretching luxuriously. “Go ahead and turn the shower on for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zayn says. His hand goes to his arse, where the buttplug is still nestled betwen his cheeks. “Can I take this out?”

“Uh-uh,” Perrie says, and shakes her head. “Leave it in.”

“Just for the shower?”

“No,” Perrie says, a catlike grin stretching across her face. She slides of the bed and comes to embrace him, one hand going to trace around the base of the plug. “Leave it in for the show. I want you to remember the whole time.”

“Remember what?” Zayn asks breathlessly. He knows the answer, but he loves hearing her say it.

“That you’re mine.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://whyitgrins.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


End file.
